A Football Revival in South L.A.

Hayes Pullard of Crenshaw High leaps over Dorsey High players in Friday's win.
Robert S. Helfman

By

Hannah Karp

Updated Dec. 10, 2009 12:01 a.m. ET

In the heart of the gritty, gang-infested Los Angeles district best known as South Central, Crenshaw High School's football team, once a doormat, is undefeated and ranked among California's top 10.

If Crenshaw beats nearby Narbonne High School Saturday, it will win the city title and become this inner city's first serious contender for a California state-championship bowl game.

A scrawny, scrappy lot, the Cougars aren't the offspring of NFL greats—several of the players are homeless—nor do they have a new coach or much of a winning tradition.

The main catalyst for the school's startling success this season is this: Many of its players are among the first graduates of a youth-football league with inner-city teams founded five years ago—and personally funded and overseen—by rap artist Calvin Broadus, who is better known by his stage name, Snoop Dogg.

"We have a special bond," says Crenshaw junior running back De Anthony Thomas, one of the fastest players in California, who is being recruited by schools from USC to Miami. Mr. Thomas has the rap star's personal phone number and considers him "like a dad."

Scenes From Snoop Youth Football

A look at the Snoop Youth Football League's Super Bowl V, played in South Los Angeles and overseen by rapper Snoop Dogg

Kyle Alexander for The Wall Street Journal

The Snoop Youth Football League, which boasts a dozen teams, including four in underserved South Los Angeles neighborhoods, has produced the bulk of Crenshaw's talent, including senior wide receiver Geno Hall, who has 677 receiving yards this season, and quarterback Marquis Thompson, who is being recruited by Miami, Oregon and Utah and has thrown for 19 touchdowns this year. Last week's win against archrival Dorsey High School has taken this school from the basement to the highest echelon in a state with a treasure trove of talent in just about all sports. "I'm having anxiety attacks," said Ruby Thompson, bundled up in Crenshaw's crowded stands last Friday night as she watched her grandson, Mr. Thompson.

Before Mr. Broadus, there wasn't much organized youth football in the Crenshaw district. A diehard Pittsburgh Steelers fan who played quarterback at Long Beach Polytechnic High School, the 38-year-old caught the coaching bug nearly a decade ago when he began volunteering as the offensive coordinator for his sons' youth team in the Orange County league.

After a few seasons, frustrated with the program's high fees and strict rules, Mr. Broadus invested $1 million to launch his own youth conference that charged about $200 less per player than most Pop Warner teams, offered discounts for siblings and allowed parents with criminal records to volunteer. Mr. Broadus invests an additional $50,000 each year to sustain the program.

While some dismissed it as a publicity stunt and others criticized Mr. Broadus for siphoning off Orange County's best players and setting a bad example with his gangster persona, Crenshaw's impressive turnaround this year suggests the Snoop Youth Football League is starting to have a real impact as it cultivates football talent.

ENLARGE

Calvin Broadus, known as Snoop Dogg, coaching a youth-league game last week.
Kyle Alexander for The Wall Street Journal

"Snoop brought football back to South Central—that's why we've been so successful," says Gregory Shoaf, known around Crenshaw as "Coach Crazy," who has been schooling local players at the kindergarten level for the past 40 years.

Featured in films such as "Boyz N the Hood" and "Love & Basketball," Crenshaw leads the state in basketball-championship titles and has produced baseball greats including Darryl Strawberry. But its football program has long been considered something of a joke. Before head coach Robert Garrett took the helm in 1988, he says former players in the neighborhood, parents and even teachers would heckle the football team on game days with questions like, "How many points are you going to lose by this time?"

One of the biggest problems, says Mr. Garrett, was always that the district, home to the street gang known as the Crips, hadn't had its own Pop Warner team since the 1970s, with few parents able to volunteer as coaches, let alone pay registration fees. As a result, despite the region's abundance of athletic potential, Crenshaw's high-school football teams have lacked the chemistry and camaraderie that comes from playing with one's teammates from the age of five, since students were forced to disperse and commute to other districts to play football at the junior-high-school level if they were to play at all. (Crenshaw alumnus Brandon Mebane, now a defensive tackle for the Seattle Seahawks, says he didn't start playing tackle football until the ninth grade—he played baseball instead.)

This year's group is a different story. The 10-odd Snoop League graduates on the team have a passion and connection with one another that Mr. Garrett says seems to be propelling them—even if their fundamentals need a little brushing up. "They call each other 'bro'—that's unusual," says Mr. Garrett.

If Crenshaw wins Saturday's game, it may be selected for the ultimate prize—a trip to a state-championship bowl. Since 2006, California has a bowl system similar to the national collegiate ranks, in which teams are selected based on strength of schedule, head-to-head competition, common opponents and sportsmanship.

After advancing to the city championship last week with the win over Dorsey—located squarely in the territory of the Crips' rival gang, the Bloods—a crew of Crenshaw players including Messrs. Thompson, Thomas and Hall stopped by the Snoop Youth Football League Super Bowl Saturday night to pay their respects. As rap music blared over the stadium loudspeakers, they chatted with their former coaches on the sidelines and caught up with Mr. Broadus in the end zone as he slinked around in his black hoodie, taping up players' feet and leading his son's team, the Pomona Steelers, in athletic drills and a slew of catchy, if not exactly G-rated, cheers. While Mr. Broadus's three hulking security guards kept adults at bay, all the youngsters were free to approach him as they pleased.

Mr. Broadus can't take all the credit for Crenshaw's success, of course. Mr. Garrett says some of the steps he has taken over the past two decades to change the school's football culture are also starting to bear fruit. He has challenged neighborhood hecklers to try their hands at assistant coaching, instituted a business dress code for players on Fridays, opened his own home to players on holiday weekends and insisted that college scouts start coming to campus to meet his players face to face. Four years ago the team won the city title, though it wasn't ranked in the state's top 10.

Still, Mr. Garrett admits that Mr. Broadus "has helped the program a lot."

"I celebrate what he's doing—he's probably saved thousands of kids—and he doesn't have to do that," says Mr. Garrett. "I may not want to hang out with him, but he's putting his money where his mouth is."

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